The Fountain of Youth
by flitwing
Summary: The legend of the Fountain of Youth has been passed down for centuries, but few actually believe it. This story follows the adventure of Elizabeth and her son, both trying to find something they are missing. ...Enjoy! :D


-1Chapter One

The clarion colors of day were now fading into the vibrant, warm hues of sunset on the ocean waves. It was the time of dusk, when men headed home after a vigorous work day and the women continued their daily jobs to appease their husbands and children. It was a time for loved ones to come together and coincide with one another. It was a time for families.

For nearly ten years, one family had not been complete.

William Turner, the third to be dubbed with this name, had waited over nine years to meet his father, the man who was said to be exceptionally brave, and loyal. One who would do anything and everything to help those he loved, especially his family. That is what his mother had told him, at least.

She would also tell him stories--much more interesting facts about his father-- saying that he was a fearsome pirate who roamed the seas, collecting souls. He traveled to a world of the dead and back, the only person in the world who could do so. His mother told tales of how he rescued her from certain death time after time.

These stories had a tendency to expand and bend whenever young William saw fit--for boasting to the boys in town that his father was a Pirate Lord of the Dead was always a fun game to play. Not that they believed him.

William resembled his father remarkably, as he was constantly reminded by his doting mother. He had wavy, dark brown hair, curious brown eyes to match, and he was a bit tall for his age. The main difference between the two were young William's facial features; They were very round, for he was still a young boy.

Now, William was sitting on the edge of the cliff by his home--they lived a ways out of the town, enjoying the privacy. The house sat on a hill top with a grassy field in front of it that led to a drop off. It had a beautiful view of the sea. William swung his legs, humming a tune that his mother taught him. The sound of footsteps in the grass caught his attention, and he turned to face them.

"By this time tomorrow, William, you will be meeting your father!" called Elizabeth to her son, heading towards him from their cottage home.

"Will I get to go on the boat?!" he asked eagerly, having never been on a real ship before. His mother's expression flicked into a grin--William wasn't sure why. "I think he'd rather spend some time on land, actually.."

William pouted his lip. What would he tell the kids in town, now? He had been bragging for months that when his father arrived he would be the first on the pirate ship.

"C'mon William, lets go back. Its getting dark." The boy reluctantly got up, still wanting to watch the horizon line just in case his father came early. With a pout of the lip he slowly trudged behind her. "Fine.."

He followed his mother back inside their small home, the same one she had bought as soon as she moved in so many years ago, somehow having just enough money to buy it. (The gossips in town claimed that she stole it from a pirate that she whored off to, and fled here when she found out she was pregnant. William wasn't sure what 'whored off to' meant, but he assumed it was bad.) Rumors aside, the house fully belonged to them. And, although she was a woman, Elizabeth had worked in town as one of the men ever since to support herself and her son. William was left with many chores because of this--most families had a man to earn the money and a woman to do the chores. So, with a role left unfilled, their home was usually in a stage of disarray. Lately, however, Elizabeth had been staying up later to clean and tidy the home, as if when her husband arrived after ten years of sailing he would be offended if his wife was a bad housekeeper.

Occasionally William would ask his mother why this was so--why his mother had to act as a man and work in the town. Why didn't his father give them the money they needed? He was a pirate, after all. Didn't he get money from treasure chests? She would always smile at him, though, saying that she would only live a lifestyle where she earned what she had.

After being tucked in by his mother and having said good night, William lay awake in his bed for what seemed like hours. How could he sleep knowing that his father would be arriving so soon? Less than one whole day! This was not the first sleepless night, though. For weeks he would occasionally have a night where he could not possibly fall asleep because of his thoughts and wonders about his father's arrival. He used to doubt it--that his father would actually come. Why would he? He hadn't for ten years. Why now? But William's mother never questioned it. She seemed to know exactly what would happen, from sunset to a flash of green light, to a ship on the horizon. Her certainty put all doubt to rest. He trusted that there must be a good reason that his father wouldn't meet his only son.

So, as he had done on many other nights, William silently emerged from his bed and tiptoed towards his window, avoiding each noisy creak in the floorboards. He knew them all by heart. The window was already open, for he had learned to open it before going to bed to avoid noise, and all he had to do was climb out and hop over. He lifted himself up upon the ledge and swung his legs over, making no sound but the soft thump of him hitting the grass feet below. He crept towards the place he had been hours before, the cliff's edge with the open view of the seemingly endless waters.

William slumped down on to the long grass, absentmindedly picking a few blades from their clusters. The moonlight was reflected into the waves of the ocean, revealing no pirate ships that his father might be in. After a few minutes of gazing out at nothing, his brown eyes wandered to the dock by the town. He knew all the boats and who they belonged to. Boats, sailing, pirates--they fascinated him. Maybe because he knew his father was a strong, feared pirate himself--or maybe because most young boys his age are interested in such things.

He went down the line of boats and ships. There was a fishing boat that the father of his friend Timothy owned, it was small and old and William liked to imagine his father's grand ship sailing straight through it. Timothy always bragged that he got to go fishing in the boat, and since he did he was much more wise and experienced than the other boys. There were a few trading ships, they all bore some kind of symbol that labeled where they were sent from, next to them were several other boats privately owned by families in the town, none of which were very large. William continued naming them in his head, proud of his knowledge of the town's marina.

He got through every ship and boat in the dock without faltering, except for the last boat..

William stopped picking the grass. Who's boat was _that_? It was small, puny, and looked to be severely damaged. A single wave could have knocked it off balance. William had never seen it before. And it wasn't there that morning, for he or one of the other boys from town would have noticed. Without a hesitant thought, William was up and running towards the path down to the docks.

In a matter of minutes the young boy was rapidly approaching the harbour, his heart was racing wildly. This boat could have something to do with his father--and that is the only thought that crossed young William's mind.

When he got closer to the vessel his original impression was only enforced--the boat was indeed puny, shabby, and very, very out of shape. There were holes filled up with cloth and at least six inches of water filling the bottom. It was surprising it hadn't sunk yet. The mast, which was also very short, looked as if it had once been longer, but something had chopped it down. The sail was obviously not of any redeeming quality; It had holes and patches and looked to be a bed sheet. It was a miracle that the boat had made it _anywhere_. William normally would have doubted if it could move at all.

He stepped closer, peering inside the strange boat, attempting to find something that would explain why it was here. There was only a bucket with holes and a variety of odd rocks and muck. William would have liked very much to sit in it--shabby boat or not--but he feared that it might sink with any more weight to it. He was about to resign his thought of entering the boat when something caught his eye. There was some bit of leather shoved underneath the tiny plank of wood that he assumed to be a seat--a hat. William checked behind himself for any sign of the owner before carefully climbing in to the boat. It creaked noisily, and dipped down a few inches, but remained above the water. William sighed in relief and grabbed the hat from beneath the wooden seat. It was triangular, and made of strong leather. It had signs of travel--being beaten and scratched, but remained whole. William smiled to himself, imagining that this was his father's pirate hat, and he set it on his head. The hat proved to be much too large for him, and almost covered his eyes after absorbing his head. This made William smile again, still thinking of what kind of man his father was.

"Who are you?"

The voice was deep and spoken with half alarm and half curious offense. William spun around quickly, setting his wide, brown eyes on the speaker. The man before him was definitely the owner of the boat. Not only had William never seen him before, but he looked just as shabby and worn out as the boat William was now standing in.


End file.
